


Untitled

by Belle_Evans



Series: Contact [2]
Category: The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 15:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Evans/pseuds/Belle_Evans
Summary: Dom got skittish and bailed. Brian has gotten himself a life.





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Orginally posted on LJ. It's a kind of sequel to the The Open Ended Ending of Contact (also just moved over from LJ).
> 
> It can work as a standalone.

Patrick Jamison has talked down junkies messed up on all kinds of shit. It shouldn't be that much harder talking down his own boyfriend, a boyfriend messed up on Dominic Toretto."Brian, put the gun down." The gun shakes a little in Brian's hand, but he doesn't let go. Patrick feels an ache in his heart.

The first time he saw Brian O’Conner was right after the end of the other man's suspension. The perp he beat down was tangentially connected to one of Patrick's cases. Until then, he'd only known Brian O’Conner by name. He'd been immediately attracted. 

Blonds were Patrick's thing. Especially Hitchcock blonds, untouchable, beautiful. He did his homework. There were the rumors - dirty cop, cop gone native, cop who couldn't keep his shit together. He hadn't paid very much attention to those whispers because, unless you'd been deep, there was no way to know what it was like. The decisions that had to be made on a dime, decisions that were sometimes so, so wrong. In his eight years with narcotics, he'd had assignments go seriously sideways on him. So Patrick knew. And he let those whispers about Brian O'Conner slide in one ear and out the other.

He was surprised that he never heard what should have been the most obvious rumor. A rumor that would have been the most relevant to him at the time. Patrick hadn’t let the absence of that particular bit of information deter him. 

He clamps down hard on that bit of memory and hardens his heart for what he has to do now _."Brian, put down the goddamned gun."_

"""""""""""""

 

**_Before_ **

Patrick watches his boyfriend make his way to him through the crowded, noisy bar. To the untrained eye they look like brothers. The members of Patrick's unit have dubbed them the Bobbsey twins. Sometimes he wonders how strangers can see the way they are in each others personal space and not clue in to the obvious.

But that's not his problem and he just smiles wide at Brian when the other man catches his eye. This is their Friday night thing. The bar has a mixed crowd and this is where they had their first date although Brian seemed not to know it was a date.

And Patrick let him have that. Let him have that for three months. 

 

His first day at the academy, Patrick hadn't entered the room, thrown his hands in the air and said I'm here and I'm queer, but he also hadn't hid. His gender pronouns were always specific. When he decided that he wanted Brian O'Conner, he watched and waited for an opportunity. When it presented itself in a case with overlapping players, Patrick made his move and didn't look back. 

The first time he invited Brian to grab a drink after work, the blond politely declined. Patrick wasn't surprised. He'd watched Brian decline invitations to socialize with anyone for about a month. After two months of his own invitations, Brian finally said yes. And he said yes to every other invitation Patrick made for casual 

get-togethers. Get-togethers that could be construed as benign.

"I'm having a barbecue for some of my detail, wanna come by?"

"I'm driving up to Oxnard to look at a safehouse, wanna ride up with me?"

Three months in, Patrick invited Brian to dinner. He made it clear that he was going to be cooking for just the two of them. The information didn't seem to phase Brian. He said yes. And when after dinner, Patrick handed him a beer, but didn't let go when Brian wrapped his own hand around it, and when he stepped into his fellow detective and pressed his lips gently against Brian's, he said yes again.

Later, he pressed his forehead against Patrick's, and said, "I'm so fucked up Pat."

Patrick pressed a kiss to the small scar on Brian's temple and murmured to him, "I know. I've been there. You don't have to stay there."

That had been two years ago.

"Hey," Patrick says as Brian slides onto the barstool beside him and reaches for his pre-ordered beer. He watches quietly as Brian loosens his tie and takes a long pull.

As the half-empty beer settles back on the bar, Brian leans forward and gives Patrick a quick kiss.

"Did you have to testify?" 

Brian sighs in frustration. 

"Of course not, sat there all day and then they decided to take the plea agreement."

"Sucks."

"Yeah."

"You wanna try and get a booth?" He watches Brian's eyes as they flick around the room. They always start out at the bar. Whoever had the crappier day always gets to decide whether they stay or not. Patrick can see Brian's answer before he opens his mouth. But the actual words never come. Instead, Brian's lips press tightly together as he stands suddenly and cranes his neck. The concentration on his face is intense. Patrick tenses, waits.

"I - I’ll be right back," Brian stammers without looking at Patrick. He disappears quickly into the crowd. Patrick's eyes try to track what caught Brian's attention. They come up with nothing.

He scans the room for signs of trouble, but doesn't pick up anything.

Out of nowhere, Brian is at his shoulder again looking a little flushed, a little agitated. He bends low and his mouth is right next to Patrick's ear. "I’ve gotta go. I'll call you."

As Brian pulls away, Patrick grabs his wrist. "You okay? You need backup?" Brian lifts his hand and gently traces it along the ridge of Patrick's cheek and shakes his head. Concerned, Patrick watches Brian's rapidly disappearing back as he gets engulfed in the crowd. He waits a few more minutes, pays his tab and leaves. 

They have codes that they text on their cell phones. There are codes for urgency and reassurance. Codes that say I've had a little too much to drink and I need a ride, codes that say come now, come strapped and codes that say I'm okay. That night Patrick doesn't get any messages from Brian coded or otherwise. And his calls to both Brian's cell and his apartment go unanswered. He doesn't see his partner until some time the next afternoon, leaning against a wall in a precinct hallway. 

Everything in Brian's posture suggests that it is only the wall holding him up. Patrick does a quick visual assessment, takes in Brian's unshaven face, his jeans so worn, so tight and a gray t-shirt, faded from several washings, that hugs his chest. His appearance sparks an instantaneous reaction and an involuntary observation. 

Even though he has two years worth of intimate knowledge of Brian's annoying habits and personality traits, Patrick is no less aroused by Brian's roughed up beauty than he was the first time he saw him moving through the squad room in his private bubble. The observation is a mixture of the professional and the personal. The cop realizes despite the obvious wear of the clothes, he has never seen them on Brian before. 

"What the hell happened to you last night?" Patrick grits. They know better than to do workplace drama, but this is the first time in two years they've ever been completely out of contact. 

When he looks at him, the opacity of Brian's eyes stun Patrick. "This, something…"

He watches the bob of Brian's adam's apple as he swallows and tries again. "I need, a couple of days."

Patrick can't help reaching out to touch Brian's arm.

"We shouldn't do this here." Patrick drops his hand.

"Yeah. If I call you later, are you gonna answer the phone?"

Something flickers in Brian‘s eyes.

"Pat. Please. I need a couple of days."

Pat growls low, "You call me then, you call in."

"Pat…"

"Sixteen hours without a word. You show up looking like a bus hit you. Are those even your clothes? How do you expect me to react to something like that? Every eight hours O'Conner."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, yeah I know. You need anything –"

"Thank you," Brian says quietly.

 

 

"""""""""""""

 

It creeps up on Patrick the way things do when your mind is multi-tasking. As he's scouring the sidewalks along Spring street looking for one of his informants, part of his mind is thinking about his dry cleaning, about a report on a meth lab he has to complete and that flicker he saw in Brian's eyes. In his relief at seeing that Brian had all of his limbs, he didn't focus on that flicker as he should have. It was pain. Pain, the quality of which he'd seen before. He does one more cursory, impatient survey of the area before swinging his car in the opposite direction. 

It's easy to sit on Brian's place. They don't live together. Spend a lot of time at each other's places, but still even after two years retain separate addresses. The purpose is not to mislead. Most of the people who need to know, know that they are together. Brian doesn't go out of his way to tell people, but he doesn't side step direct questions about their relationship. Pat is fine with that.

The wait isn't long. He has Brian's place under surveillance for about twenty minutes or so when there is movement. Brian steps out of his front door looking very much like he did the last time Patrick saw him. The jeans are still tighter than he's use to seeing Brian in and the t-shirt fits Brian so well that for a moment he loses his train of thought. The train's course is instantly corrected as he realizes Brian is casing his own street. He watches Brian give the street one more look before he cocks his head slightly. A second man steps out of the house. The man is big, bald and easy on the eyes Patrick can’t help but note. 

 

He watches as they flow together like water, like partners. Just as they get to the driver’s side of Brian’s car, Brian stops. And Patrick expects the other man to keep moving, to go around to the passenger side. And he does keep moving, right up behind Brian until there is barely any space between the man’s front and Brian’s back. The man snakes one of his heavily muscled arms around Brian and slips his hand into the front pocket of Brian’s snug jeans.

It's only a moment, a small fraction of time, but it's enough time for Patrick to feel his world shift and tilt off its axis. 

Though he could get access easily enough, he's never seen the case file for Brian's first undercover. Patrick knows from experience that case files often have the facts, but rarely the truth. If there was something he needed to know Brian would tell him. Or so he had thought. 

 

He watches as the bald man’s hand slips out of Brian’s pocket almost as quickly as it slipped in. The sunlight glints off Brian’s car keys as they dangle from the man’s fingers.

In the two years they have been together, Patrick has never driven Brian’s car. Ever. He watches as Brian laughs and moves to the passenger side of his car without any hesitation.

"""""""""""""

 

It surprises Patrick that for once a case file actually has not only the facts, but the truth. It's right there for anyone to see amongst the surveillance reports, notes, pictures. One picture that looks like it was taken at a speedway, Brian and Toretto backdropped by a crowd of people. He doesn't think that you have to know Brian as well as he does to read the photo correctly. Patrick can't believe that this, as obvious as it is, was missed. He doesn't understand how anyone running Brian in that op couldn't see that he was in trouble. Sure, he knows Brian's body language intimately, but he thinks that if he were to show this picture to ten randomly selected people, each one would see what he sees. What his boyfriend has apparently been unable or unwilling to tell him. 

Patrick's UC duality asserts itself. The cop in him is planning his next step. It's fairly standard. Patrick knows he'll be able to execute it easily. He has the element of surprise on his side.

The other part of him, the part where his emotions are held in check while he works, is experiencing the searing, ugly roil and twist of emotion he hasn't felt this viscerally since he was a 14 year old boy hit with the realization that the 16 year old boy he'd been in love with had a serious boyfriend. 

And the same way he would on any assignment, Patrick suppresses the emotion so that he can get down to business.

 

"""""""""""""

Patrick watches another low-life roll into the bar on the opposite side of the street. It’s the kind of place frequented by professional drinkers. 

Toretto has already been inside for about a half an hour. Patrick has checked the back of the place and knows that the fire exit is blocked by a dumpster. One of several citable violations if he needs to squeeze the owner, but he doubts that will be necessary. The fewer people directly involved in this scenario the better. 

 

"This because you're fucking him." Toretto growls bitterly. 

It hadn‘t been that difficult rolling up on Toretto. Patrick slipped into the booth quickly and flashed his shoulder holster, shutting down any thoughts the other man might have had about bolting. 

"This is because of a lot of things you will never understand." Patrick allows just a little bit of the deeper emotion to show.

"I’ll give you two hours, you should really do your very best to make sure it takes about half that time." 

He watches Toretto whiteknuckle his Corona and quells any empathy he might feel.

"""""""""""""

 

"Brian, put down the goddamned gun." He watches Brian closely. What he sees could be any junkie scared that he'll never get another fix. A fine sheen of sweat starts to glisten on Brian's forehead. Brian's eyes go out of focus with desperation and anger. There is the finest of tremors in his shooting hand. And each of these little things cements Patrick's advantage. 

 

"This is the way you want this to go down?" Patrick asks quietly as he holds up his hands to Brian in supplication. 

"You want our business in the street? You want IA in this? You want this place crawling with uniforms?"

The gun falters just that little bit more.

The takedown goes fast, textbook. Patrick presses his knee into Brian's back as the other man twists and writhes beneath him.

"You son of a bitch. What the fuck did you do?"

"Shut up O’Conner." 

Patrick kneels that much harder and pushes Brian's twisted arm further up his back. It's a little awkward, but with his free hand he takes the clip out of Brian's piece and puts it in his own pocket. He tosses the gun out of both their reaches. 

"What did you _do_?"

Patrick reaches for his cuffs.

"I did what someone should have done for you two years ago. I did what Tanner should have done. I pulled you out. It's over Brian." 

He presses his knee down into Brian's back for emphasis and cuffs him cleanly.

Brian gasps and the quality of the pain in it, sears Patrick. He understands keenly that the sound has nothing to do with his physical restraint of the other man. 

 

In the passing weeks, Patrick sees flickers of Brian out of the corner of his eye, just beyond his field of vision like a ghost. The Bobbsey twin jokes dry up quickly. It's four weeks of reports and stakeouts and stings and eating and sleeping alone. Until -

 

It’s late and Patrick is going over case reports in front of the television. The sound is muted, so it isn’t difficult for him to hear the light knock on his door.

He checks the peephole before opening the door so he has time to school his features. Brian stands on the threshold looking both tired and uncertain. 

"Hey," he says and Patrick returns the greeting evenly.

"Can, can I come in?" 

And Patrick knows there’s no reason to make this part of it any more difficult than the rest of it has been, so he steps back and lets Brian in.

Brian eyes the case files on the coffee table and begins a retreat.

"Oh, sorry I didn’t- "

"You didn’t. Sit down, you want a cup of coffee?"

 

"Nah, just water. I’ve been on a stakeout for the last eight hours or so I‘m a little wired."

His laugh is nervous as he rounds the couch and Patrick can’t help but smile, just a little.

 

"""""""""""""

 

"I’m sorry." Patrick doesn’t say anything, just watches as Brian picks at the label on his water bottle.

"It was overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. And who’s going to admit that on their first assignment. Bilkins already thought I was a pussy. I mean they were criminals so the detachment should have been easy. But they were also a family and I hadn‘t had that for a long time. It was so much harder than I thought it was going to be. Classic rookie fuck-up and I -. He - . I’m so sorry Pat. I screwed up. But I don‘t want this to be over."

Patrick hears the words. Hears the sincerity that twines through them, knows that Brian means what he’s saying. And that’s a start.

He has resisted the pull to touch Brian since he let him into the apartment. Shifting closer, Patrick strokes his fingers into the hair at the nape of Brian’s neck. Caresses as the other man lets his head fall forward.

"Detective O’Conner, if you ever pull a gun on me like that again," Patrick begins quietly, "and we both survive, I will press charges. And it’ll come with all that entails. Do you understand?"

Brian nods underneath his hand.

 

"I have your back, but I’m not sure you really know what that means. Your superiors on that assignment failed you. That’s on them. You’ve managed to bullshit your way through your psych evals for the last couple a years so you could keep working, and of course I get that. But it hasn’t done you much good. You need to see someone, for real. I can recommend a couple people that I use for my team or you find someone on your own, but it’s non-negotiable. If it needs to become a part of your file for it to happen, I am prepared to go that route. Are we clear Detective?"

Another silent nod. Patrick squeezes gently and drops his own head, mirroring Brian’s. 

The Lieutenant persona slips away, giving space to the boyfriend. A boyfriend blindsided by the discovery of his lover’s infidelity. The jealousy and pain of that moment in his car slams into Patrick. He inhales sharply.

"Pat?"

Patrick lifts his head, meets Brian‘s eyes. He is very good at his job. It’s not arrogance, it’s just something he knows. His personnel record backs that up. Part of what makes him good is his control. That same control has also served him well in his civilian life, until now. He has just a second to wonder what Brian reads on his face before the other man slides across the remainder of the small space between them and kisses him.

Eventually Brian ends up underneath him on the couch as he has many times in the last two years. Patrick tries not to think about the fact that for the first time in those two years he isn’t the last man to have touched Brian like this.

**  
**

****

_Now_

Brian steps through the patio door and clicks it closed behind him. His eyes flick to the door briefly, guiltily before he lights up a cigarette. Flopping down in one of the two chaises, the cigarette dangles between his fingers as he stares at the full moon.

He never thought that he would be this guy. Mr. Infidelity. Mr. Adultery. Sure he's not married, but that's splitting hairs. He always figured guys like this were either players or wannabe players. He's had to change that opinion, because he knows it from the inside and he's neither.

He's a guy who wants to stop, knows that he needs to. People are getting hurt, and he includes himself in that number. He can't even blame it on a cover. He wants to, wishes desperately that he could. But he can't. That cover was put to rest a long time ago. This is simply the man he is now, in real life. A liar, a cheater. And he would stop, will stop just as soon as he figures out who he's being unfaithful to. Now he’s got something else to tell his shrink. He never thought he’d be that guy either.

"Put that out and come back to bed."

He doesn't hesitate to stub out the unsmoked cigarette. The hand of a man that loves him brushes a gentle caress against his cheek.

"Come on."

He hears the easy slide of the patio door behind him and turns to find it left partially open for him. He will choose. He will stop. He has to, but not tonight. Tonight, he slips through the door and locks it behind him. 

 

 

End


End file.
